


Aurors Abroad: Sailing Croatia Edition

by CasablancaInTheTardis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror!Draco, Aurors, Croatia, Drarry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Holiday, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, Patient!Harry, Sailing, Swearing, Undercover, Why am I tagging everything with exclamations, auror!Harry, awkward!Draco, case fic in the loosest terms, hopefully cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 13:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasablancaInTheTardis/pseuds/CasablancaInTheTardis
Summary: Draco loves field work as an auror, and Harry is the only one who will put up with his nonsense and histrionics, but being stuck on a small and rundown boat in the Adriatic as part of this mission is testing Draco to his absolute limits. In the race against the clock to find a somewhat dangerous criminal, will he snap and push Potter overboard, or will he catch more than just a potions smuggler? An unspoken attraction between auror partners could become something more if Draco can only keep himself from being tossed overboard. Slightly shy!Draco and confident!Harry feature in this auror partners/friends to lovers getting together fic.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	Aurors Abroad: Sailing Croatia Edition

“Remind me why the fuck we have to stay on this goddamned death-trap, again?”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at Draco’s extreme reaction to their current mode of transportation. “It’s just a boat, Malfoy. We’ll be fine.”

“One night has been enough. I want to get off. If I have to use that tiny, stinking bathroom again, I may actually kill someone.”

“Come now, that’s not very auror-ly of you,” Harry cajoled. “Then we’d have to arrest you, and while I’m sure you’d enjoy being in handcuffs, the bit that comes after isn’t nearly as pleasant.”

Draco decided to ignore the light flirting, mostly because he was worried that at any minute, the boat would heave to one side and he’d go flying out the open door and into the Adriatic.

“I’ll have you know that it would be you I’d kill for dragging me along on this mother-fucking assignment, and then you wouldn’t know the joys of having me bound and gagged. And, for the record, I think that it’s entirely unfair that Weasley and Johnson got to remain on solid ground while I’m aboard this floating tomb.”

“You know that Ron is on land because Hermione’s expecting. And Johnson gets seasickness.”

“So? I’m starting to think I do, too,” Draco whined, clutching onto the side of the bunk beds with white knuckles even though Harry could barely tell that the ship was moving.

“Nonsense. You’ll be fine. One more night and we’ll dock in Korcula, witness the exchange of goods, then use it as leverage to find the supplier. It will be brilliant!”

“And in the meantime, I have to put up with these muggle tosspots who get pissed every night then complain about their hangovers the next day? Take a potion, you fools!”

Draco was on a roll now, Harry could tell.

“I mean, why pay all this money for a trip sailing about the isles of Croatia if you are going to spend all night drunk, and all the next morning vomiting into your tiny toilet cubicles? What a waste of money! And rich people know about wasting money, Potter, that’s why we still have it. Because we don’t blow it on ‘Mama’s cocktails’ and ‘Adios Motherfucker’ shots. Why are they called that? They’re 90 percent sugar water! Not nearly as good as Firewhiskey and-”

“I know!” Harry said, cutting the rant short. “It’s dumb, they’re dumb, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Well, yes,” Draco shrugged petulantly. “I mean, half of them didn’t even get off the boat to go exploring today. What is even the point of suffering this watery torture chamber if not to explore the beauty of the islands?!”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Harry said, placatingly. As much as he enjoyed listening to Draco rant on literally any topic - whether it be the lack of journalistic integrity of The Daily Prophet, to whatever colour Parkinson had dyed her hair, to the rights of house-elves, (Harry found every word utterly engaging) - he knew that with lack of sleep and general lack of equilibrium, Draco’s rant could turn into a blazing row with the muggles on the lower deck. And they were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Draco seemed to deflate at these words - the wind taken completely out of his sails by Harry’s total agreement with his point of view. He was just incredibly tired, truth be told. He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night because Harry had insisted on having the door open for air (fair enough) and the rocking and rolling of the waves which began at approximately two am meant that the seaspray occasionally coming though the gaping hole in the wall, combined with the heaving side-to-side of the small boat, had kept Draco in a state of constant vigilance - his slender, white arms clenching whilst his hands gripped on to the side of the top bunk for dear life.

His wand, jammed in the pocket of his *shudder* denim shorts (“we’re undercover, Malfoy, we have to look the part”), was the only thing he had keeping him from certain death.

Well, it and Harry, of course. For there was no way on Merlin’s earth that the Chosen One would let him die on his watch. Mind you, to Draco, this was no small comfort because he’d almost rather drown than let Potter lord another life debt over him. Almost.

“Why don’t we go sit on the roof?” Harry suggested gently, aware that Draco was unhappy in this assignment, and seeking only to make things better for him.

“Are we not more likely to get thrown off from there?”

“We’ve anchored in the middle of the bay for a reason. Until we set sail again, we’ll be fine. Plus fresh air will do us both good. We can go over the key points of the case, if you like?”

Draco smiled slightly, pleased that Harry knew the best way to distract him was with the minutia of their case.

“Okay, fine,” he said cooly, but he knew he wasn’t fooling Harry, who smirked as he grabbed the case-file and made for the exit.

The dark blue carpet lining the deck of the boat was saturated, still not having dried since the previous evening’s wet roller coaster journey, and Draco wrinkled his nose as it squelched underfoot. Why carpet?! Boards would be slippery, sure, but wouldn’t retain moisture in this no-doubt deeply unhygienic way.

Luckily for him, he and Harry were staying on the top floor, so at least they had fresh air. There were three levels of accomodation on the boat - theirs, the middle deck which was at pier level, and the bottom of the ship, also known by the other travellers as the dungeon. He’d heard them complain at length about the lack of ventilation, the sound of the engine at 5am, the cramped bunks, and the list goes on. Mostly Australian, New Zealand, and - of course - British tourists, they could complain like it was an international sport for which they’d all tie in first place. Draco decided that if they wanted fancy accomodation, then they shouldn’t be on a budget trip like this one, but who was he to pass judgement?

The sooner he was off this boat, the better! The middle floor, which had accomodation to the rear, a dining area in the middle (though the sticky, faux-leather seats had no business being anywhere near Draco’s bottom!), and an open-air table and chairs at the bow of the ship was currently occupied by the majority of the other passengers.

The aforementioned tourists were currently playing some sort of raucous drinking game which involved picking up a box with their mouths.

“It’s called the box game,” Harry said, following Draco’s gaze, as they stared down upon the rabble a deck below them. “You have to pick up the box using only your mouth, and only your feet are allowed to touch the ground. Then you rip a bit of the box off so it keeps getting smaller and harder to pick up.”

“How do you know that?!”

Harry shrugged. “Played once or twice in the Gryffindor common room. Absolute pants at it, though, always lost my balance.”

“I can’t see what the challenge is supposed to be. Can’t everyone bend that way?” Draco asked genuinely before realising how it sounded out loud. Harry chuckled, not commenting further, as they turned again towards the back of the boat to climb the ladder to the roof.

There wasn’t much on the roof, just a bunch of deck chairs flat-packed and tied to the railing to stop them blowing away, and the mast that wasn’t currently being used - standing sail-less and sad.

“Want a seat?” Harry nodded at the chairs.

“Rather not have even further to fall,” Draco replied, eyeing the chairs darkly as though they were planning to pitch him overboard. Instead, he sat in the very centre of the roof - as far from any edge as he could be - folding his legs elegantly into lotus pose.

Harry simply admired the grace of the man sitting before him. He wasn’t interested in trying to deny his attraction to Draco - it had been simmering beneath the surface of their professional and successful working relationship for months - but he wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardise their friendship or, less importantly, their case.

He was struck, though, by how the clear half-moonlight cast ethereal shadows across parts of Draco’s face, rendering him Veela-esque in his beauty.

“Right,” Harry said, plopping down opposite, leaning against the five-inch high railing on the starboard side, “the case.”

“So far I’ve seen nothing to suggest that the chef - to use a loose term - or his assistant are remotely suspicious.”

“We’ve only been on the boat one day. Besides, what do you count as suspicious?” Harry asked.

“Well I think the menu is bland, but that’s hardly cause to call in the DMLE. I mean, no strange phone calls, no sneaking off to strange nooks or crannies on the ship. The tracking spells would’ve alerted us to that.”

Harry nodded as Draco continued. “Marco has been in the galley, the dining area, his room, or the bathroom the whole time we’ve been on board, and only jumped off for a smoke when we were in Miljet. Same goes for the other one-”

“Tony”

“Right, Tony. Bummed a cig off him in the afternoon and tried for some conversation but his English is fairly limited. I find it unlikely that he’d be fencing illegal goods back to England if he can’t even say numbers correctly.”

“Intelligence all points to this boat, though,” Harry said with a frown, “and the crew are likely suspects as they’re the only constants. Plus, we know the both of them to be squibs - unlikely to be muggles, isn’t it?”

“Unless one of the passengers is a repeat guest?” Draco replied, “It’s the only explanation I can think of unless Marco or Tony is simply playing dumb while biding their time.”

“Should we look into the passenger list, then? The office didn’t have a chance to go over it before we boarded, so that’s definitely a potential avenue for investigation.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Draco grinned, finally distracted from the fact that he was surrounded by water and was a hopeless swimmer. He loved his job, truth be told. Finding new leads and pursuing them, especially when your gut instinct turned out to be correct, was one of the best feelings he could name.

Harry had been riffling through the sheafs of paper in the file, pulled out a list with a triumphant “aha!” And thrust it towards Draco who was facing in the best direction to catch the moonlight.

Draco leaned forward to study it closely and Harry realised why the man would have had no trouble at all with the box game - he was basically folded in two.

Rather than mimic the pose, Harry conjured a towel and lay down on his stomach so he could read under rather than over Draco’s shoulder.

“Firstly, there’s an NZ couple - James and Dorothy-”

“Jim and Dot - not likely. Lovely people,” Harry said.

“Lovely people can be criminals, too,” Draco protested.

“Speaking from experience, are we?”

“You think I’m lovely? Flattered,” Draco said dryly.

“Call it a gut instinct, but I don’t think it’s them.”

“Okay,” Draco said, making a small mark next to their names. “Next we have two single ladies - Jordan and Dominique.”

“Jordan loves the sound of her own voice - wouldn’t be surprised if she’s using it as a cover. Dominique won the trip, I heard her telling another guest, so this is her first voyage if that’s true. Tentatively, I think rule them out.”

“Next is Michael, who is rooming with Andy,” Draco read, creasing his brow. “Is Michael the one who keeps inappropriately touching all the women?”

“Yes, he’s a dickhead, but that doesn’t make him a smuggler. Mind you, he did see to know his way around the boat pretty well when we all boarded.”

“I’ll put an asterisk next to his name. What about Andy?”

“Seems harmless enough, but who knows? He’s the one all the girls are fawning over.”

“I don’t see why,” Draco said, crinkling his nose, “big nose, boring conversationalist.”

“Not your type, then?” Harry smirked.

He enjoyed hearing Draco dismiss other people, even though it was cruel. He enjoyed it because he knew full well what Draco’s type was.

“You know I prefer them tall, dark and selfless,” Draco smirked, without turning to look at Harry.

Harmless flirting. That’s all.

Harry rolled onto his back, ostensibly to look up at the stars and moon half obscured by light cloud. Really it was so he could occasionally stare at Draco. But he didn’t say anything else that wasn’t case-related.

They made their way through the rest of the passenger list and narrowed it down (through instinct, personal interaction and guess-work) to six suspects. In the morning - while everyone was sleeping off the alcohol consumption that was continuing on the middle deck - they’d owl the office and check names against the database for any connection to the magical world. They thought they were probably looking for a squib or someone directly related to a witch or wizard, but there was also the potential for it to be a muggle who had some sort of romantic involvement with someone in the magical world. All they could do now was wait it out.

As the sounds of laughter and cheering died down, and paper had been appropriately returned to the file and magicked back to their room, Draco also lay down to stare up at the sky (after making Harry promise to grab him if he started to roll off the roof, of course).

The two men lay in opposite directions, feet pointing towards opposite sides of the boat, but heads together. Draco was pointing out some of the constellations that he thought he recognised.

Harry was pointing out the ones he knew he was making up.

“I’m pretty sure that is Ursa Major,” Draco said, frowning. “Or is it Ursa Minor?”

“You know I have no idea, Draco, but I’m impressed anyway.”

“I swear I used to know this stuff!”

“Well I definitely do. That there is the washing line,” Harry said pointing to a couple of stars in a row.

“No it’s not!”

“It is,” Harry insisted with a grin. “That is the constellation of fresh starts.”

“Oh, really?” Draco smiled back, mostly looking sideways at Harry rather than at the stars.

“Uh-huh. And over there, see that one?” He pointed, and Draco followed the direction of the tanned arm and probably talented finger.

“Yeah?”

“That one that looks kind of like a triangle with a tail? You see that one?”

“I think so.”

“That’s the gullible idiot.”

Despite himself, Draco laughed out loud. “You’re an idiot!”

Harry was laughing too.

Then they heard the roar of the motor coming to life and realised that the boat was about to start moving again. The way joy turned to panic in an instant on Draco’s face would’ve been comical, except that Harry was just working his way up to being unprofessional and this had rather killed the moment.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Draco said, scrambling to his feet. “Quick! I need to get to the ladder before-”

Well, suffice to say, it was too late.

The boat suddenly lurched forward, and Draco stumbled backwards, arms windmilling uselessly as he nearly plummeted backwards over the edge of the railing.

With his quidditch-honed reflexes, Harry reached out and grabbed whatever he could - in this case, the bottom of Draco’s abhorred jean-shorts - and tugged him back in the opposite direction.

With a wobble, an ‘omph’, and a thud, Draco landed on top of Harry.

It wasn’t the sexy sort of landing where one miraculously fell into straddling the other. No. In this case, Draco had landed in such a way that his entire body was pressed flush against Harry, who had none-too-softly clonked the back of his head on the deck. Draco’s elbow was pushing into the softer part of Harry’s stomach (missing the six pack in a painfully bony way) and he had one leg either side of Harry’s right one. So it was sort of a straddle, but more just an uncomfortable way that he’d landed which would no doubt result in purple bruises on both his knee caps the next day. His spare arm was reached out above Harry’s head, fingers spread on the deck as though trying to stick himself to it even though he hand no such Spider-Man-ish skill.

“Shit,” Harry said, licking blood off his lip where he realised he’d bit himself as his head made contact with the floor.

“Sorry, Potter,” Draco said, making absolutely no move to get up.

“All good,” Harry said with a weak smile.

“You might have concussion,” Draco said.

“Might do, but I doubt it.”

“Still, I should check,” he said, still making no move at all.

“How are you going to check without moving?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I’m building up to it,” Draco said nervously, as the boat rose and fell with the swell of the ocean, and he realised the wind must’ve picked up.

“You are too scared to stand up, aren’t you?” Harry intuited.

“I’m old enough to admit when I’m scared, and yes, I am. Happy?” Draco snapped, but Harry knew it wasn’t because of him. Draco genuinely feared being thrown from the boat and drowning.

“If you don’t get up, I can’t get up, and then we will be trapped here until morning,” Harry said. “I mean, fine by me, but I know how much you need a good sleep.”

“I really can’t move, Potter,” Draco said, eyes scanning the boat and finding nothing helpful for him to hold on to whilst extricating himself from Potter’s immediate vicinity.

“It’s okay, we can stay here,” Harry lied, feeling Draco relax slightly against him.

In one swift movement, Harry rolled them over, switching their positions so that Draco was now safely trapped beneath him on his back.

This time, it was a proper straddle. Harry was holding his torso above Draco, so as not to crush him, but his arms were forming a protective cage around the other man so there was no chance of slipping, rolling, or going overboard.

Harry could see Draco’s pulse jumping at his throat, and knew that it was mostly due to the fear of imminent peril, but that some of it was due to their compromising position.

He licked his lips again, the tang of blood strong on his tongue, and allowed himself the slight indulgence of glancing at Draco’s mouth. His full lips were slightly parted - probably in shock - and it seemed that he was panting a little. Harry flicked his eyes up to meet Draco’s. They were closed as if to prevent him from being reminded that he was still on the roof of a bloody boat.

“It’s okay. We’re fine,” Harry said soothingly, “I’ve got you.”

Draco squinted open one eye, then both, somewhat satisfied that he was in no imminent danger. Harry let his weight rest back on his heels somewhat, meaning that he was pretty much now sitting on Draco’s crotch, but still leaning forward over the other man’s torso. He figured it was more secure this way. He also decided that this newfound bendy-ness would come in handy with the box game.

And other games.

He allowed himself another glance at Draco’s face, focusing on his eyes this time. Surprisingly, they were not wide with fear, but the pupils were dilated in what Harry was fairly certain was lust.

To test his theory, he allowed himself up off Draco slightly - under the pretext of following the rise and fall of the boat - before sitting back down again. He was rewarded with a slight huff of air from between Draco’s lips.

He felt his own pulse quicken somewhat and wondered what would happen if he did cross that line between professional and pornographic... because there was definitely a line there.

Just as he was leaning down to see how a kiss might change their relationship, a distinctly kiwi accent called from below. “Oi, anyone up there? Not allowed on the roof while the boat’s moving.”

It was their tour leader, Ashleigh, crashing in on their moment of solitude.

Harry saw Draco’s cheeks flush red, his eyes dart off to the side, and decided it was for the best.

“Sorry, caught off guard. Coming down now!” He hauled Draco to his feet and side-alonged him into their cabin, before returning back to the roof to climb down in front of Ash.

“Just you up there?”

“Yep. Doing some stargazing, you know? It’s so clear out here.”

“Yeah, you can ever see Ursa Major from these parts. It’s awesome. Mind you, we have even more stars back in NZ.”

“Really? Wow, that must be... cool.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Right...”

“Okay, well back to your room, now, please. Don’t want to lose anyone!” She laughed, not knowing that was exactly what had nearly occurred.

“Haha, yeah,” Harry agreed awkwardly, before sidling past her and into his room.

Draco was already in the top bunk, back to the door.

Harry sighed to himself, quietly getting into the bottom bunk and turning out the lights. Perhaps he’d taken it too far in light of Draco’s near-death experience. He shouldn’t’ve taken advantage. He was almost as bad as Michael-the-perv!

———————

The morning dawned bright and choppy. Harry had awoken at about four to send the inquiries via patronus, then gone back to bed. It was too windy for a poor owl and a patronus would be quicker. He was sure Draco wouldn’t mind that he’d taken the initiative.

It was now nearly seven and the bell for breakfast would be rung in about an hour.

They’d pulled up at the dock in Korcula and he could see that half the crew had already left the boat for a cigarette, or to visit the bakery on shore. He thought maybe a quick run around would help settle his mind, so he wrote Draco a quick note and left it atop the only furniture in the room - the small wardrobe by the door. Grabbing his mercifully dry trainers, Harry headed for solid ground.

An hour and a half later, Harry was all exercised out. He’d be late for breakfast, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He at least had faith that Draco would be up and about - for someone so slim, he certainly had an appetite. Even if breakfast was as dull as bland cereal, bread and jam, with the odd orange wedge to brighten things up, he would be there as soon as the bell was rung.

It was strange, then, when Harry went straight to the dining area that Draco wasn’t there. After all, he himself was only twenty or so minutes late. Draco should be onto his third bowl of dry cornflakes by now.

He returned to their room, a feeling of unease creeping over him. Draco wasn’t there either.

In fact, as Harry did a quick whip-around of the ship, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. The only place left to check was the roof.

Wand drawn, awkwardly because he had to climb a damn ladder, Harry made for the roof.

As expected, Draco was there - apparently unconscious and tied to one of the infernal deck chairs. There was a bruise blooming over his right eye, but he looked otherwise unscathed.

Behind him was a scrawny and altogether unappealing woman, brandishing Draco’s wand at Harry, clearly with no idea of how to use it. Harry wasn’t scared in the slightest - slightly concerned for his partner, of course, but he realised she was no real threat.

He searched his brain for a name to connect with the face - something starting with an ‘S’? Sally, Sarah? What was it?

“Put down your wand,” she said, irritating accent grating on Harry’s frayed patience.

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied calmly. “You first.”

“I know how to use it,” she said hotly. “My boyfriend told me. I point it and say-”

“Expelliarmus,” Harry said, cutting her off. It was almost too easy, but not every case had to be a Death Eater-level threat to his personal safety. To be safe, he then swiftly sent an ‘incarcerous’ her way as well, satisfied as the ropes shot out of his wand to bind her in place.

“Suzy! That’s your name,” he said, pleased with himself for remembering so quickly. Suzy just scowled in response, and Harry decided he should focus his energy on reviving Draco and involving him in the rest of the investigation.

With only slightly shaking hands, Harry manually untied the ropes binding Draco’s hands behind him and cast the spell to wake him. Funnily enough, Draco’s ensuing scowl matched Suzy’s.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone I was blindsided by this muggle bint!” He spat as soon as Harry had woken him. “I’m beyond furious.”

Harry would normally object to ‘muggle’ being used as an insult, but he couldn’t help but agree with Draco on this one. Plus, he was just happy that his parter was - for the most part - fine.

“How did she get the drop on you?” Harry inquired as he helped Draco to his feet.

“Not with magic, that’s for damn sure.”

“She hit you?”

“With something bloody heavy, I think,” Draco replied, wincing as he touched the swollen part of his face. “Whacked me as I came in through the cabin door - got me right in the eye.”

“You’re lucky you’ve still got it!” Harry said, thinking of how bizarre Draco would look with a glass eye like Mad-Eye Moody’s... it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Yes, well, if it had been a question of magical ability, there wouldn’t have been any contest,” Draco sniffed, clearly embarrassed that he’d been gotten the better of.

“Of course,” Harry said, placatingly.

“What now?” Draco asked, shooting Suzy a dark glare. “Interrogation?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, do you?” Harry said, glancing pointedly at Draco’s almost-black eye.

“I can maintain a professional attitude!” Draco said indignantly, and Harry could see he was about to go off on another rant.

“I know, of course,” said Harry, trying to cut him off, “But maybe we’d best leave it to Ron and the team. After all, I’d say we’ve earned a break, wouldn’t you?”

Draco cast a weary glance around the dreaded boat, and nodded: “I suppose.”

“Good, it’s settled. I’ll organised a portkey to take this one-” he jerked his head in Suzy’s direction, “back to HQ, and then I’ll meet you on solid ground for some downtime. Yes?”

Draco just nodded dumbly, quite ready to be back in London in the grey drizzle with a good book and a glass of wine.

“Good. Go find somewhere to relax, on dry land - here - may as well make the most of this trip, and send me a patronus. I’ll meet you there when our end of the paperwork is done.”

“You’re going to do the paperwork?” Draco asked, “but you hate paperwork.”

“Yes, but I’ve not just been smashed in the face by a crazed woman and tied up on a quote unquote ‘floating death trap,’” Harry shrugged.

“You’re going to have to write about how she got the better of me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I will. But I’ll make you sound as heroic as possible,” Harry smirked. “Now go relax. I’ll sort this.”

“Thanks, Potter.”

“No worries.”

———————

Three whole hours later and Draco could be found at the top of a fort overlooking the port of Korcula. There was a dizzying ladder he’d had to climb to get to the top, and he’d had to put on some muggle makeup to cover his battered and bruised face, but it was worth it because this old look out had been converted into a very trendy - and quite empty for this time of year - cocktail bar. And Merlin knows, he could do with a drink!

He’d sent word to Potter via patronus - as per his request - and was now waiting with a gin and tonic in one hand, and his wand in the other. He wanted to be quite sure to avoid any more unwelcome surprises.

A loud ‘pop’ announced Harry’s arrival downstairs (as it would be quite silly to apparate in front of even the small number of muggles on the roof of the fort) and a moment later, his messy black hair appeared from the top of the ladder.

Harry knew he was sporting the tired but pleased look he often wore after a case was done, but his attention was fixed firmly on Draco, who looked like some sort of sun drenched prince in the midday light.

His gaze was was roving over the edge of the fort, out towards sea, then towards Harry emerging from below.

“Everything go well?” He asked when Harry settled himself down next to Draco on the fort wall.

“All under control,” Harry smiled, signalling the waiter to bring him a drink. He didn’t much care what.

“What’s the latest?”

“At this stage, we think she’s the girlfriend of one of the top wizards in the smuggling ring. They met on a holiday and she was apparently easily convinced to help him continue with the job.”

“Was she imperiused?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Harry shrugged, “turns out she was just a nasty piece of work and very much in love.”

“What’s the protocol for muggles breaking wizarding law, anyway?”

“You’re supposed to be the expert,” Harry replied, jokingly.

“My guess would be muggle prison sentence or some sort of fine. She’ll definitely have the trace put on her, though - the ministry will want to know where she is if she’s deranged enough to attack aurors.”

“The boyfriend has broken the Statute for Secrecy, so that’s something. Maybe they’ll obliviate her instead?”

“I hope she doesn’t get off that lightly,” Draco scowled.

“Yes, there should be some sort of punishment for messing up your perfect face, I suppose,” Harry smiled, looking out at the view and taking a sip of his drink, deliberately not looking at said perfect face.

There was a loaded silence.

“Potter?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me all the time,” Draco said, a slight frown between his eyebrows.

“Do I?” Harry asked, nonchalantly.

“You know you do,” Draco replied seriously, his tone forcing Harry to look at him.

They were sitting side by side, but both angled in towards each other to lean on the wall and face out to sea. Their knees were nearly touching, and they were close enough that if they both leaned forward enough at the same time, their faces would collide.

“And you’re always going along with my rants and indulging in my whims, however stupid they might be.”

“Not always,” Harry argued.

“Why, though?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Draco’s eyes flickered momentarily to Harry’s lips then back up to meet his eyes again.

“Maybe,” Draco breathed.

They were now somehow closer, but Harry didn’t remember leaning in.

“Yes, it is,” Draco added, eyes now definitely fixed on Harry’s lips.

Harry smirked slightly, “well?”

And then they were kissing.

It was surprisingly easy, like breathing. There was no bumping of teeth on teeth, or noses catching, or lack of certainty about what their hands should be doing. Their lips met as if they’d been doing it for years. If it wasn’t for the excited swooping in Harry’s stomach, he wouldn’t have registered that this was a first kiss, as it didn’t carry any of the expected awkwardness that was practically guaranteed.

After several long, glorious moments, they broke apart. Harry was pleased to note the high flush on Draco’s cheeks, and the plump, thoroughly-kissed appearance of his lips. Had he looked in a mirror, he would’ve seen that his own face was similarly pink, and that his hair resembled a birds nest more than ever before. It turned out Draco quite enjoyed tugging on Harry’s ebony strands.

“That was...” Draco said, weakly.

“Yeah...” Harry agreed with a lopsided grin.

“Should we-”

“Mhmm,” Harry agreed again, leaning in for yet more kissing.

They were only interrupted when the waiter brought over Harry’s drink and loudly cleared his throat. They broke apart again, Draco slightly embarrassed but ready to tear the waiter a new one for interrupting, and Harry bemused and contented.

But the spell had broken and they returned to their surroundings, which included a few interested stares from the other drinkers at the fort bar.

“Potter, before we do any more of that-” he gestured, “Do you not think we ought to talk about how this affects us professionally?”

“I thought you might say something like that,” Harry frowned, feeling the euphoria of the last ten or so minutes rapidly ebeing away.

“No one else in the office can bear to work with me in the field. You are literally the only reason I get to do field work. And, today not withstanding, I really like my job. I don’t want to get stuck behind a desk just because...” he trailed off, looking unsure.

“You’d rather keep doing field work than see where this could go?” Harry asked, frown deepening.

“No, this is important, too, but,” Draco gave a kind of helpless little shrug.

Harry felt his heart squeeze but he wasn’t sure why. Was he happy to hear that Draco wanted to see where this whatever-it-was could go with Harry? Why did it have to come with a caveat? Or was he downcast that Draco’s self worth seemed to be attached solely to his job? Or was he anxious that by pursuing a relationship with Draco that he might endanger that which makes the man truly happy?

Then a very Slytherin thought popped into his head.

“Well, I suppose we could always keep it a secret?”

“What?”

“You love your work, I love working with you. I don’t see why that should have to change. And if us being together threatens that, then let’s just not tell anyone.”

“And what if this,” Draco gestured between them again, “gets, you know, serious?”

Harry could feel himself smiling once more, in relief that Draco was open to a possibility that was already pretty much a given for the Gryffindor. “I’m sure we can work something out,” he said, thrilled that Draco was starting to smile again, too. “But for now, I’m pretty sure we were in the middle of something rather excellent.”

“Oh, yes, good point, Potter,” Draco said, leaning in and tangling his fingers in the hair just behind Harry’s ears. “Where were we?”

_The end_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the rambling fluff of that fic. Sorry to any Aussies or Kiwis who were accidentally insulted by my descriptions. Being Australian, I feel like I’m allowed to say we have annoying accents, sorry! Travel advice: Korcula is lovely and you should definitely visit the fort bar, but if you are sailing the islands make sure you get a boat where your toilet cubicle doesn’t double up as a shower, because it’s gross and you deserve better! ALSO I hate the title but my inability to think of a good enough boat pun (and there are A LOT of boat puns out there) has already prevented me from posting this weeks ago so oh well!


End file.
